words

comps are done, OH list is done, i haven't slept in two days (not because of those, just random psychoses and insomnia), and yet here i am awake. i still have a cushion of a few hours before i have to force myself to sleep to avoid job disaster tomorrow, so i'm reading lester bangs and listening to joe jackson. no wonder my brain can't accomplish the one thing it needs. the soco should take over soon and shut them all up, but in the meantime, i can't stop thinking about a recent post-coital conversation, and wondering why it's stuck in my head, above the more visceral memories that ordinarily would take precedent. i don't remember the specifics, just that we were talking about (and listening to) roxy music, and having a conversation that on my end was about bryan ferry, and on his was about brian eno. my use of the word "dandy" was the tip-off, as i recall, and at the time it was just amusing and a little carver-esque, but now that it keeps coming back, i'm reminded anew that there's something to be said for shared experience when it comes to coupling. don't misunderstand me-- i'd just met this guy a few hours prior; we weren't old friends. and it's not about age, and what decade we grew up in, because he and i were about ten years apart. sure, we can all create memories together, and sing along when wham or the cure comes on the radio (maybe), but those moments when one or the other spouts off some random thought triggered by a song or a smell or a date on the calendar, and the other person gets it-- those intersections make it possible to build on a moment and make it a memory, or at least turn plain old satisfaction into something closer to bliss. speaking of word usage and the joys of other people getting it... now that clay and i both have free nights & weekends, we've been talking more often, which i'm enjoying immensely. tonight we had an animated conversation on the finer points of the words "hysterical" and "hilarious," spurred on by his observation that the voice mail i left him upon seeing my horse on Curbed sounded hysterical, which he found hilarious. yup, we're both dorks. dorks with OEDs on our list of top ten belongings to rescue upon threat of fire, right behind our laptops and before our various collections of personal... stimuli. more about words: wrote a thousand or so on the boy history today, on the topic of the brain-stuck biker boy, but i can't post that either, because it's only a surface scratch, and, well, i'm still hopeful that the story hasn't yet reached its end in real time. this weekend i will take a stab at the summer of international boys, which tracked closer to a hurricane season than just a summer. the cubano, the brit, and that navy nutcase who insisted we all call him "frenchy"-- those are all stories i can safely share.